


My Mind is Made Up to Make a Quick Escape

by louisniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst?, Blow Jobs, Forgiveness, I apologise, M/M, and it snowballed, i cant write smut to save my life, i just started off with annoyed louis, niall is a cumslut, really well disguised ot5, this actually has zero plot, what even is this where is this fic even going idek im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1295953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisniall/pseuds/louisniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis needs a shag, and no one's really willing to help him except the one person he doesn't really want help from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Mind is Made Up to Make a Quick Escape

**Author's Note:**

> this literally has no plot im so sorry i cant write smut to save my life goodbye-- title is from the song 'awkward' by san cisco

“For god’s _sakes_ ,” said Louis. “That’s the third _fucking_ cup of tea you’ve spilled _today_.”

“Sorry,” Niall said, looking hurt. “I’m just trying to help.”

“What exactly are you trying to help _with_?” Louis sputtered. He was earning an ungodly glare from Liam across the room.

“Chill mate. What’s got your briefs in a bunch?” Liam asked, throwing Niall an apologetic glance like he hadn’t done anything wrong except nearly burning Louis’ cock off.

“Your head shouldn’t be in my pants, keep it in Zayn’s,” he spat. “I’m fine.” He reached for the pot of hot water again, poured himself another cup (now the fourth), and put the last tea bag of his in and watched the color diffuse through it. He kept it out of Niall’s reach.

“My head isn’t in Zayn’s pants,” said Liam after a long silence.

“Pardon?”

“I said my head isn’t in Zayn’s pants.”

Louis shrugged. “Not my problem whose pants your head is in. As long as you brush your teeth afterwards.”

“Are you okay mate? Like, you’re acting like a total dick,” said Liam. At this point Niall had reduced himself to a ball in the corner and was huddled under a Superman blanket, watching Louis drink his tea and plotting god-knows-what in his head to fuck with Louis again.

“Liam,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m _fine_.”

Liam threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Just asking, Tommo.”

Louis huffed and rolled his eyes. He went to itch his arm and then cussed when he scratched too hard on the tape covering his new arrow tattoo. “I’m lonely.”

Liam and Niall both looked up. “What?” Liam asked.

“For god’s sakes Payno I’m fucking _lonely_. Haven’t had a proper shag since the tour ended.”

Niall chuckled from the corner. “Seriously? You’re being a little bitch because your dick hasn’t been anywhere else but your hand?”

Louis shot him a deathly glare and he shut his mouth. “My hand is not an excuse for any of this. I need a _shag_. And you two seem to know how to get one.”

Liam threw his hands up again. “I’ve got a girlfriend, mate.”

“Oh don’t tell me you don’t sleep around, you complete _arse_. No one’s _that_ into their girlfriend.”

Liam frowned and a crease formed in between his eyebrows. “I really like Sophia, dickhead. I don’t sleep around.”

Louis shrugged and turned to Niall. “What about you, kiddo? You haven’t had a girl since, like, before the X- Factor. You’ve got to have _someone_. You pull in the hot famous chicks.”

“I’ve had girlfriends while we’re on tour, Lou.” Niall said, pulling his blanket up higher. “I don’t hook up much anymore. Just a few here and there. Australia mostly. They’re good there.”

“Well we’re not _in_ Australia, are we? We’re in LA. City of dreams. You’ve got to have _someone’s_ number. C’mon, fork it over.”

“If you’re so _fucking_ desperate, Tommo, why don’t you scoot over a room and shag Harry,” said Liam.

Louis fumed, he swore he felt smoke coming out of his ears. “I’d _never_ shag Harry. That’s revolting. He’s my best friend.”

“And sometimes best friends are there when you _really_ need them,” said Liam, obviously not getting it. “That was _not_ a onetime thing.”

Louis huffed. “It _was_ a onetime thing, Liam. I was drunk and stoned nearly to my breaking point and Harry was the only nearly-attractive thing with working genitals.” Niall giggled from across the room at his use of the term ‘genitals’ and Liam threw a pillow at him.

“If you’re complaining so badly about a shag I’m literally going to come over there and just suck your dick so you shut the fuck up,” said Liam.

Louis got up and went to his room, slamming his door and text-bombed Liam for the next hour until he fell asleep with a joint in his hand and Friend re-runs playing on the TV.

***

“They seem like good kids,” said Liam as he dragged Louis away from yet _another_ tattoo parlor.

“Hmm?” asked Louis, still focused on the picture of a woman with large tits modeling a sleeve.

“I said Good Charlotte seem like nice lads? Yeah? Good to work with them?”

“Yeah, totally. Liam, come get a tattoo with me,” he said. He felt drunk but was actually completely sober and not nearly high enough to be deemed ‘unfit to do anything except piss and wank’.

“Not while you’re high, no. You’ll make a bad decision, like get Niall’s signature on your arse or something. Let’s just go back to the hotel, yeah?” Liam tugged on his sleeve and Louis followed, still thinking that he wanted a large marijuana leaf tattooed on his back. That wouldn’t go down well with management and his mother. At least the fans would like it.

When they got back into the hotel Liam pried Louis’ key out of the front pocket of his jeans and settled himself into Louis’ room on the other bed. “You can leave, you know,” said Louis. “I’m perfectly capable of doing things on my own.”

“You smoked three whole joints, Lou. You’re stoned. You’ll fall out the fucking window.”

“The window doesn’t even _open_ ,” he countered, tugging his fingers through his hair. He needed a haircut.

“I’m sure you’d make that happen.”

“Bugger off, Payno. I’m fine. I need a wank. I’m lonely.”

“I know you’re lonely,” said Liam, turning on the TV. “So I’m here. Hello. Hi.”

“Will you ride me?” Louis asked. Liam’s eyes stayed on the TV but he unconsciously clicked on the ‘Adult’ section of the hotel movie rentals.

“No.”

“Blow me?”

“No.”

“At least cuddle with me naked,” pleaded Louis. Liam was right; he probably would’ve fallen out the window sooner or later.

Liam sighed and put down the remote in the middle of typing “lesbian”. (The cursor flashed at the end of, “lesb” and Louis thought it was absolutely hilarious.) “You do realize there’s a perfectly willing, perfectly _cute_ boy in the room just over who’d be willing to ride, blow, _and_ cuddle with you naked, all for little or no cost of maybe a condom and a blowjob in return.”

Louis narrowed his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t look very menacing when he felt bubbly and horny on the inside. “I’m not shagging Harry.”

“Suit yourself, then,” said Liam. He stood, made sure the window was locked by putting his belt through the handles and tightening it, and then kissed Louis’ forehead, which made Louis’ cock twitch in his pants. “Have a good night.”

Louis stood dumbfounded, staring at ‘lesb’ on the screen. He finished typing ‘ian’ and got himself off three times before he fell asleep.

***

“Don’t you dare touch my tea,” he said to Niall, keeping it out of his reach.

“Wasn’t going to,” said Niall, taking a seat between Zayn and Harry at their first official ‘band meeting’ since the Brits. ( _That_ band meeting was to discuss who would sneak the weed into the afterparty. Liam had been nominated and had refused, he instead got incredibly drunk and they nominated Niall to hide the bag in his pants, since a little bulge in the boys jeans would really shock no one.)

“Good, then we don’t have a problem,” he said, taking his seat at the head of the table, because, well, he was _the leader_. (It had been nearly four years since Harry had _once_ called him that, but he still retained the title like an over-absorbent sponge and used the title as often as he could. “Who should we get weed from? There’s a good guy over the other edge of town who sells it cheap and good” and Louis would counter with “But we’ve always used Barlo and his funny smelling socks, and he’s relatively cheap” and they’d say “He’s weird and it isn’t even good” and Louis would throw the leader thing at him and Barlo would have five thousand extra pounds to turn in to his boss.) He gave Harry a funny glance, because, the last time he’d _really_ seen him, it was after Louis’ last shag. They were stuck together with dried cum— Harry was the big spoon and Louis was the little spoon— and they ended up going three more rounds that very morning before Louis practically ran out of the hotel room and neither called nor texted him since.

So it was nice to see him again, yes.

The only bad thing about that night was that _Louis_ was drunk and high, but Harry, the pretty bastard, had only three drinks and no drugs in his system, which meant that he probably remembered it better than Louis did.

His stomach did a flip when their eyes met and Harry smiled and his stupid dimples settled into place.

“So, band meeting. What the fuck is this even for,” said Zayn, picking at a scab on his elbow. They all shrugged except for Harry who looked down at his lap.

“Writing? I didn’t read the email from management. I’m assuming no one did,” said Louis.

“I read it,” said Harry, looking up from his lap. “We’re to discuss writing and maybe write, and bus arrangements and hotel arrangements and drugs.”

 _Discuss_. Proper language made Louis’ stomach flop. “Why drugs?”

Harry looked at him and only him, as if _he_ was the only one who smoked. “They want us to stop before we turn into Justin Biebers of the boyband industry.”

“I’ll stop once you realize paying a thousand pounds for a jacket is way overpriced, mate,” said Zayn, and Niall was the only one who laughed.

Silence followed and Louis slurped his tea and pulled his legs up to his chest. “Why the fuck are we all in one great big _mood_.”

Liam and Zayn shrugged and looked at each other. “You were in a mood since we got on the plane, Tommo,” said Liam. The other three nodded and he felt himself go red. He felt Harry’s eyes on him and he immediately wanted to crawl into a hole.

“What? Is he having Eleanor withdrawal?” Zayn asked, looking around at all the knowing faces and becoming clearly frustrated once he figured out he was the only one who didn’t understand Louis’ ‘mood’.

“He’s pissed because he hasn’t had his dick anywhere since tour ended,” said Niall, chewing his nails even though he wasn’t supposed to. Zayn unconsciously hit his hand away from his mouth and Niall nearly fucking whimpered.

Harry’s eyes were boring into Louis’ fucking soul. “Would you _stop_ looking at me like that, Harry?”

Harry raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Sure.”

The meeting lasted two hours and they got through the chords of one whole song and the words to two. Harry didn’t look at Louis once, even when he had to directly address him.

When Louis got back to his room he ran a bath and stayed in until he felt like a sad white prune, then fell asleep with his hair soaking his pillow.

***

“Why the fuck would you wake me at this _ungodly_ hour, Liam?” Louis screeched through his hotel door as he stood in front of it only in a too-short t-shirt and socks. 10 AM really was _ungodly_ , especially since he’d barely gotten sleep the last few nights between writing, and Harry avoiding him, and getting drunk and jerking off every single night since their ‘band meeting’.

“It’s not… It’s not Liam,” said Harry through the door.

Louis froze. “Oh. Um. Hang on a second.” He cursed at himself and quickly found the cleanest pair of boxers he could and put them on, then opened the door. Harry was in a similar state: bed-head and boxers, just minus the shirt, and Louis thanked the gods above for that. “Hi.”

Harry smiled. “Hi. May I come in?”

 _May I_. “Yeah, sure.” Louis stepped aside and let him into his room, and was absolutely mortified when he realized he’d left the lube on the bedside table _and_ the porn up on the TV screen.

Harry just laughed. “Have fun last night?”

Louis sat down on his bed and clicked the TV off and put the lube under his pillow. “No.”

Harry frowned. He came closer to Louis and Louis was ready to attack: claw his eyes out, poke his dimples till they popped, rip off his extra nipples, singe his curls, anything. But all Harry did was take the lube out from under his pillow and set it back on the bedside table within the little ring of the liquid that had dripped off of the bottle during its use. “Might be needing that.”

Louis’ fucking heart stopped. “What?”

Harry just shrugged. “Last time we were in a hotel with lube I fucked you into the mattress.”

“Is that what you’re here for?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Then what exactly _are_ you here for?”

“Just to kiss you.”

 _What_. “Pardon?” Louis stuttered.

“Just to kiss you,” he said again, grinning. “Y’know, like, I put my mouth on yours and maybe my tongue in your throat.”

Louis literally felt his blood pressure shoot up to an unhealthy level. “We—We can’t do that, Harry.”

The younger boy frowned and pulled his legs up onto the bed. “Why not?”

“We just can’t… We’re best mates.”

“That’s an awful reason,” said Harry. “ _Friends with Benefits_ was a _great_ movie.”

Louis shook his head. “What happened between us was a onetime thing, and it’ll stay that way,” he said. He stood and opened the door, gesturing out. “You can leave now.”

Harry looked incredibly hurt— his dimples had deflated and his eyes looked like dripping green paint— but he left without a word and Louis shut the door loudly behind him.

***

“Niall, for the last time, you’re playing a _minor chord_ ,” said Louis, putting his hands over his ears as if to block out the sounds coming from the blond boys’ guitar. “It’s a _major_ song.”

“Wrong, Tommo,” he said, playing the chord again, and Louis realized, it _was_ a major chord. “It’s a major 7 th, and it sounds minor,” he played it again and smiled, “but it isn’t.”

“Fuck you,” said Louis, putting his hands over his eyes. The porn was back on the TV and before Niall had broken out his guitar it was in use between the two of them in Louis’ room. “Will you shag me?”

Niall laughed and down-tuned his guitar. “Nope.”

Louis huffed. “Why _not_?”

“Because I’m straight.”

“So? So is Liam, so is Zayn. So am _I_.”

“Is Harry not then?” asked Niall, looking up from his guitar and playing an E-chord. Louis shrugged. “Exactly. Louis, I hate to break this to you, but your chances of being straight are about as big as the chances of me fucking Judy Garland.”

“Judy Garland’s dead.”

“Exactly my point.”

Louis sighed and put his face into his pillow as Niall unconsciously played the chords to ‘She Looks So Perfect’. And then ‘Baby’. And then ‘I Kissed A Girl’. And Louis knew the last one was on purpose. “I’m not gay, Niall.”

“Neither is Ellen Degeneres, Louis.”

“Stop being a sarcastic, fuck, will you?” Louis asked, turning his face sideways to look at the younger boy and watch him shrug.

“No. Not until you realize you might have a thing for Harry.”

That did it. He stood, took Nialls guitar, and set it outside the door nicely. “Either you leave or room service comes and throws her away.”

Niall left without a word and Louis slammed his door shut, for the second time, on a friend. It seemed as though he only had two left.

***

Louis couldn’t help but stare at Harry for the entire interview. He was just _cut out_ for fame. He was perfect. His dimples, his smile, his fucking _hair_ for Christ’s sake. Harry was made for the limelight, and he wasn’t.

When Harry answered something about Kendall Jenner honestly, that they were ‘just friends’ and ‘no, they hadn’t ‘seen each other’ at that hotel in New York’, the interviewer and her crew laughed and Louis’ blood boiled, because he knew that Harry was a little liar.

He knew because Harry had called him the night before telling him about his date with Kendall Jenner and how she was so much more famous than him and how nervous he was and what kind of condoms should he bring or should he bring any at all and what should he _wear_?????

It made Louis sick to his stomach and he politely intervened on the ever-present, “So Zayn, how’s the wedding coming?” question to go to the bathroom. He felt Harry’s eyes on his back as he left.

He didn’t throw up but he dry-heaved into a toilet for twenty minutes until the door opened and he forced himself to silence. “Lou?”

Zayn opened his cubicle and peered in. Louis probably looked like a sad homeless man with nice-ish clothes and far too many tattoos. Admittedly he hadn’t washed his hair in a few days so maybe he _smelled_ like a sad homeless man, too. “Alright, mate?”

Louis nodded and Zayn sat on the floor next to him, despite his clearly expensive jeans. “You’re clearly not okay.”

Louis shrugged. “I’m fine, really.”

“Louis.”

“Zayn.”

“Lou.”

“Malik.”

Zayn sighed and put his arm around Louis’ shoulders. “No one bothered to tell me why you were in a mood, you know. You gonna tell me?”

Louis shook his head and leaned his head into Zayn’s shoulder. “Too complicated.”

Zayn waited a few minutes before saying anything, maybe to put that eerie effect Zayn had on everything into place. “Is this about Harry?”

Louis shoved away from him. “No.”

“Yes it is, Lou,” he said.

“We’re not going to talk about it, then.”

Zayn shrugged. “It was just a question.”

“Well that question earned you an all-access pass out of my cubicle,” said Louis. He kicked open the door, breaking the lock (he’d have to pay for that) and stared Zayn down before the boy stood and left, slamming the broken door behind him.

Three slammed doors, three lost (almost) friends, one to go.

***

But the thing is, Liam never came round, as if the others had warned him how unfair and cranky Louis was being about Harry.

So for three nights and three days, he sat in his hotel room, unmoving except to wash himself off and shower once or twice and to get the room service from the door (and to put it outside for it to be taken away), and wallowed in self-hate and sadness.

At three in the morning, the day before their next ‘band meeting’ to write and discuss god-knows-what, he heard a knock at his door and immediately cursed and threw on boxers. He opened the door and was pushed to the side by his four bandmates trudging in and flicking on all the lights. “What the fuck?”

“You need an intervention,” said Liam, sitting on Louis’ unmade bed. Zayn sat next to him and Harry and Niall sat on the opposite bed. Louis stood against the wall and looked down, feeling four sets of eyes trained on him.

“What kind of intervention?” he asked, watching his toes flex and reading his ‘The Rouge’ tattoos upside down over and over until the words didn’t feel real anymore.

“A sexual intervention,” said Niall.

Louis looked up. “This is none of your business—”

“But it _is_ , Louis,” said Harry, cutting him off. Louis shut his mouth. “It _is_ our business. You’re fucking with us as a band and you’ve been in a really shitty mood lately.”

Louis snorted. “Is this going to turn into an orgy or something?”

“Could,” said Liam, and Louis felt his stomach twist, “but it’s unlikely.”

“Then lay it on me so I can go back to sleep, at three in the morning, this _ungodly_ hour you’ve woken me at. Who even decided on this?”

Three sets of eyes went to Harry and a fourth followed in suit— Louis’— and Harry blushed tomato red.

“You need a lay, Louis,” said Niall, reaching behind him into a bag Louis hadn’t seen prior. Niall pulled out several boxes of condoms of different sizes and textures and for god sakes even _colors and flavors_ and set them on the bed, and then pulled out what looked like an industrial sized bottle of lube. “I’ve done my duty,” he said, standing and crumpling the plastic bag in his hands. “G’night.”

Louis watched him leave and a silence fell on the room. “So what now?”

Liam shrugged. “We didn’t really think before we got here. Niall had all those things in his suitcase and just brought them here. It was originally just him, me and Zayn, but Niall insisted Harry come, too.”

 _Harry_ and _come_ should not be used in a sentence together when talking to Louis. He cringed as Zayn yawned and left without a single word. Liam looked around and followed.

And then there were two— Louis and Harry, and condoms and lube.

Harry leaned back on his elbows. “I volunteered, you know.”

Louis looked around the room, trying to avoid looking at Harry. “For what?”

A long silence ensued before he felt Harry’s large hands on his hips and his lips attached to his neck, and he let out an uncomfortable groan. He made no effort to move them away. “This.”

Louis let out a small whimper and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, letting his eyes close and tipped his head back to expose his neck, which Harry sucked on and left little purple bruises on.

“Not… Not my neck. Lower, somewhere people won’t see,” said Louis, pulling on Harry’s curls.

And then it hit him: he was _not_ going to do this again. Not sober, anyway.

“Wait,” he said, pushing Harry away who looked like a kick puppy. “I can’t do this sober.”

“Louis,” said Harry, grabbing his wrist as Louis reached for the handle of the minifridge. “C’mon.”

“No,” he said. “Once as drunk as I was had been enough. I don’t need to _remember_ this.”

Harry looked hurt. “You don’t even remember what happened?”

Louis took his hand away from the handle of the fridge and sighed, sitting on the bed. “Barely.”

“D’you wanna know what happened?”

Louis shrugged. “If you’re comfortable going into detail with it.”

“I actually wrote it down, if you wanna—”

“Just tell me. I don’t want to _read_ what happened,” Louis said, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

Harry still looked a bit hurt, but he complied and sat down on the bed opposite Louis, looking right at him.

“So basically you were piss drunk and, like, higher than the clouds. Like, mad high, mate. Like, crazy—”

“Harry.”

“Right. Sorry. Drunk and high, and you were stumbling around latching on to Liam, I don’t know why, but you were. And he really wanted to shake you. He told me later you kept asking him to fuck and Sophia was giving him a funny look, so that’s when he sent you over to me, and basically, we hooked up.”

“That’s all you wrote down?” asked Louis.

Harry shook his head. “Y’know how the fans write… like… fan fiction? I basically did that. But I’m not going to go into detail.”

Louis nodded and lay back on the pillows of his bed. He let the silence drone on before he spoke. “Show me?”

“Pardon?”

“Can you show me what happened? Like, using me?”

Harry looked around. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex again. Like, ever.”

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.”

***

Louis woke up, sticky, and _god_ did his ass hurt. He rolled over on to his side and was met with a pair of green eyes staring back at him. “Morning,” they said.

Louis shuffled himself back a few inches until he saw Harry’s full face, and smiled. “Morning to you too.”

“D’you remember anything?” asked Harry. Louis nodded.

“Everything, actually.”

He rolled over on to his other side and saw that all the boxes of condoms had been opened and several of the flavored wrappers were strewn across the bed. He chuckled to himself as he felt Harry’s arm snake around his middle. “Good.”

“I need a shower, Harry,” he said. “Let go.”

“Can I come?” he asked into Louis’ shoulder.

Against his better judgment, Louis nodded. He didn’t notice Harry grabbed a handful of condoms and the lube until he was stepping into the shower and Harry followed him and pressed him against the cool tile and kissed him. He didn’t pull back.

“Let me at least get clean first,” he said at the first chance he got, which was when Harry whimpered and turned the temperature of the water down significantly. Harry nodded and sat on the built in bench. _Fancy hotels._

Louis quickly scraped as much of what he thought was (and probably wasn’t just) his own cum off of his stomach and then whatever he could reach on his back and rinsed as well as he could. When he turned back the first thing he saw was Harry’s leaking hard cock laying against his stomach, and then when he looked up, Harry was grinning.

Louis felt his thighs go weak as he watched Harry roll a condom onto himself and then pat his thighs. “Come sit.”

Louis sat, sinking down onto Harry’s cock and it burned so good, so so so good. He sat still for a few moments, reveling in the feeling before pushing all the way off and sinking back down slowly. He continued like that until he was hard and leaking pre-cum onto Harry’s knees and Harry was scratching his back to go faster, harder, do something. “If _you’re_ not going to go faster, I will.”

Harry stood and lifted Louis, pushing his face and front against the tile and started to thrust quickly, eliciting filthy moans out of Louis that echoed around the shower. Harry thrusted harder and faster until Louis was clawing at the tile, feeling for something, _anything_ to hold on to.

Louis’ orgasm came down on him too fast and he was shooting long, white hot streams onto the cool tile and clenching hard around Harry, who slowed his thrusts and stilled inside of Louis, biting his shoulder as he came. He pulled out and sank to the floor, but Louis stayed standing in the stream of hot water.

“God,” said Louis as he finally sank down next to Harry on the floor. Harry pulled him into his lap and sighed into his wet hair.

“You need a haircut,” he said.

“Over my dead body,” Louis said, tugging at Harry’s hair. Harry smiled into his scalp, Louis could feel it.

“Good?”

“Good what?”

“Did you finally get the good shag you wanted?” Harry asked. Louis chuckled.

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ll be too cranky anymore.”


End file.
